


In His Kiss

by RedLetterMistress



Category: Jay Bauman - Fandom, Mike Stoklasa - Fandom, Red Letter Media
Genre: Choose Your Own Adventure, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21880951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLetterMistress/pseuds/RedLetterMistress
Summary: It's 2002 and you're a recent transplant to Milwaukee. Your new roommate Sarah decides to take you to a holiday party hosted by a group of former film school students. Naturally, the party is movie-themed, and you've been forced into the only extra costume Sarah had on hand.You’re convinced your night will be miserable until a bashful blonde and suave brunette catch your eye. After downing a little liquid courage, you face an interesting choice.This is the first EVER Mike Stoklasa/Reader fic on Ao3!
Relationships: Jay Bauman/Reader, Mike Stoklasa/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 32





	1. Get This Party Started

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little Christmas gift for all the Tumblr folks that encouraged me to keep going this year. Thank you all!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Milwaukee, 2002.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

"Who has a Christmas costume party, Sarah?” You tug down on your Catholic school girl uniform. “I look like an idiot. Like a slutty idiot."

“Stop fidgeting! It’s going to be fun! You look just like Nancy from _The Craft._ And it’s sexy, not slutty,” your friend replies as she knocks on the apartment door. She’s wearing a vintage-looking dress onto which she’s sewn a half dozen stuffed ravens.

You check yourself in the mirror of your compact. A thick coat black of mascara frames your eyes and deep purple lipstick makes your skin look paler than usual. Three ball chain necklaces and a spiked leather choker are draped around your neck. A clip-on nose ring and crazy black wig complete the look.

You rub off a spot of purple lipstick from your front teeth just as the door opens.

A girl with a round face an upturned nose stands in the doorway. She’s dressed as a sexy Christmas elf. She’s cheerful and absolutely adorable and you just want to slap her for some reason.

“Oh my god, Sarah! _The Birds_? You look great!” the new girl shouts as she pulls your friend in for a hug. 

“You too, Lisa!”

You chew your lip nervously, waiting to be addressed -or to disappear- either would be less weird than this. Sarah finally breaks the hug and motions you closer.

“This is my new roommate. She just moved here and I wanted her to meet some of my friends,” Sarah explains. She adjusts her blonde Tippi Hedren wig, making sure the two crows are clipped into it securely. 

Lisa smiles brightly as she looks you over. “Oh awesome! Nancy is the best! I know a few people that are going to _love_ you.”

_She seems nice. I hate her._

You make your way in and kick off your heavy winter boots near the door. You set them the entryway next to ten or so other pairs of snowy shoes. Hopefully, that's as big as this party will get. Sarah has been great, but you're not really in the mood to talk to a huge group of strangers.

The apartment is decorated garishly, with Halloween- and Christmas-themed cut outs on every wall. There's a small tree in the corner, covered in fake spiderwebs and tinsel. Strings of multicolored lights hang from push pins along the walls. You walk into the living room and find five 20-somethings sitting on a pair of mismatched couches. Nelly's _Hot in Herre_ blasts out of the large stereo in the corner.

"Sarah!" a handful of them shout as you round the leave the front hallway.

Lisa gestures over to you and begins her introductions. She points at each person from left to right.

“This is Ryan in the bunny suit from _Harvey_ and Jesse is in the fatigues…" Jesse waves happily at you as his name is called.

"Are you Rambo or Travis Bickle from _Taxi Driver_?" you ask him. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the smaller blonde guy at the edge of the couch snap his head up towards you.

"I'm Patrick Swayze from _Red Dawn_. I told you guys I should have left the jacket on!" The group laughs good-naturedly at him before Lisa continues.

"That’s my friend Lauren in the Magenta costume, and then Rich is the half-assed gorilla suit."

"I'll have you know, I used my WHOLE ass on this suit, thank you. It's balls-hot in here and I don't want to wear the fucking mask." Rich explains.

"Well you smell like a fucking locker room, mask or not. Jesus, wash that fucking thing more than once a decade, would you?" Jesse teases.

Lisa covers her laugh and continues on to the last guest. You’re not sure the blonde guy is short or if he’s just hiding most of his body in the couch. He’s currently staring at the carpet and seems to wish he was anywhere else but here.

_You and me both, man._

"That's Jay in the Freddy Krueger outfit and… then there's…. where’s Mike?”

Ryan chimes in: "He's throwing your pumpkins off the balcony again."

"GODDAMN IT, MIKE!" Lisa screams before making a b-line for the porch.

"He's actually just getting another drink," Ryan explains. "I just love seeing her get worked up."

Half of the group blows raspberries and Lauren tosses some of her popcorn at him.

Just as the laughter subsides, a lanky brunette man steps out of the kitchen. He has a thin frame and sharp nose with disarmningly beautiful brown eyes. He's wearing a Ghostbusters costume with the name tag "Stoklasa" stitched on the pocket of the tan jumpsuit. He saunters straight to you with an open hand.

"Hey I'm Mike," he greets you with a wide, charming smile.

You shake his hand nervously and he makes a small show of leaning down to hear your name. He smells a bit like pine trees mixed with something sweet you can’t place.

"It’s nice to meet you, Mike."

"Can I get you a drink?" Mike offers; still holding on to your hand. You hear the blonde guy groan. You turn to see the Krueger fellow rolling his eyes.

 _Oh I get it._ **_This_ ** _one is trouble._

"Sure. That sounds great. Thank you."

Mike gives your hand a playful squeeze before he lets go and heads back to the kitchen. Sarah starts her announcement:

"Everyone be nice, she's new in town and I expect you all to be on your best behavior," she explains. "Did you hear that, Mike?!"

"I did not!" he shouts back from the other room.

The gorilla man ( _Rich_ , you remind yourself) scoots over to make a space for you in the center of the smaller couch. Freddy hugs close to the left shoulder and does his best not to make eye contact.

You take a seat between Rich and the blonde and try to get comfortable. You see a movie you're not familiar with playing on the TV.

"What are you all watching?" you ask aloud to no one in particular.

"I have no idea," Rich answers with a shrug. "It's pretty funny, though."

"It's _Silent Night, Deadly Night:Part 2_ ," comes Freddy’s voice over your left shoulder.

You turn to him so quickly that your nose ring almost falls out. "Oh shit! Is this the movie where the weird killer guy says, 'GaRbAgE DaY!'?"

"Uh... yeah.. actually," Jay stammers. His hazel-green eyes finally meet yours and he smiles widely. His prominent front teeth cut sharply into his bottom lip. He moves to hide his smile behind the Freddy Krueger glove on his left hand and accidently scratches across your chest with the long, plastic finger knives.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry!" the blonde apologizes. He makes a move to check your breasts for injuries but stops himself.

His head crashes down to his chest in embarrassment. "I didn't…" he sighs. "God. I'm sorry."

You nudge him gently with your elbow. "I'm pretty sure I’ll live, Freddy," you tease. "Unless you're about to suck me into this couch and turn me into a blood fountain like Johnny Depp."

He looks up at you sheepishly.

_Huh. He's actually really cute. But so shy._

"I don't think so, no," he replies with a boyish grin. He covers his face again with the other hand. "And I don't think I can turn you into a cockroach either." His smile finally reaches up to his lovely green eyes. You notice how they crinkle softly at the corners and it makes you think this night _might_ not turn out to be a total shit show.

"Well then I think we're going to get along just fine," you assure him with a light pat on his knee. 

“I’m Jay. I live h…”

Mike cuts in holding a large, frosty glass of alcohol.

“That’s hilarious, Jay. Anyways, I made this just for you," Mike offers. From this angle, you can see a touch of green at the tips of his dark hair.

Jay's shoulders sink as his sentence dies on his lips. You take the cold glass from Mike’s hand and give your thanks. 

"Get up, Rich. I want to talk to our guest!” Mike yells at Rich as he kicks him in the leg.

Rich rolls his eyes and makes a huge show of effort, but moves from his seat. Mike falls back into the couch like he owns the place. Actually, maybe he does own the place.

_Who's apartment is this?_

"So how do you know Lisa?" Mike inquires as his arm stretches around you and rests along the back of the couch. He sets his foot atop his opposite knee; taking up an impressive amount of real estate on the furniture. His sharp features look dangerous, but his smile seems sincere.

"I don't, actually. I came with Sarah. I just moved in with her."

"Oh, nice,” Mike answers as he takes a drink from his beer bottle. “Sarah's great. Really funny. She's super smart and she doesn't take any shit from anyone."

"Really?" you ask with interest.

"Yeah, one time I told her that there wasn't a single good thing about _The Phantom Menace_ ," Mike explains before he takes a large sip from his glass. "She looked me dead in the face and said, 'What about the soundtrack, you fucker?'"

You both laugh loudly. Mike nods in defeat. "She’s totally right. John Williams knows how to score the shit out of a movie."

"He really does," you admit. "That's probably the only thing Star Wars always has over Star Trek."

Mike's bravado shatters in an instant. His dark eyebrows perk up to his hairline. "Do… do you think so?" he asks with genuine interest.

Jay groans loudly and excuses himself as leaves the couch. You watch him as he walks away, wondering if you said something to offend him. You turn to see Mike's deep brown eyes focused entirely on you as he awaits your response. His long eyelashes make you lose your train of thought for a moment.

"Um, yeah. I just think the 'you're either a fan of Star Wars or Star Trek' thing is bullshit," you start. "Because one is science _fiction_ and the other is…"

"...science _fantasy_ ," you say in unison.

"Totally," you reply with a smile.

You take a sip of the drink Mike made for you. It takes like coffee and creme and a _whole_ lot of booze.

"Wooo! It's this a White Russian?" you inquire.

"Yeah," Mike replies with a carefree smile. "Jay -the pocket-sized Freddy Krueger who just left- and I have been on a Coen brothers kick for a few days and this is our current go-to drink."

"That's cool," you reply before taking a large gulp of the delightful concoction. "Have you two known each other for a while?"

Mike shrugs as he looks for Jay. "For a few years now. We both make movies."

"Oh! That’s amazing," you answer. "Just for fun or is that what you do for a living?" You take a large sip of your drink as Mike formulates his reply.

"We're both just fucking around right now. We did the film school thing, but that's all bullshit. Honestly, I think we want to make our own short films and just bitch about movies all day. But no one's ever gonna pay to see that shit."

"I dunno," you answer. "Maybe someday; if you're entertaining enough about it." Mike's smile is painfully handsome before he turns away from you to laugh. He hides some of his face behind his beer bottle.

"What's so funny?" you ask. As you sink further into the couch, your back comes into contact with Mike’s arm.

He turns back to study your eyes. "That's the dream," he adds with a swig of his beer. His smile fades as he stares intently at your mouth. Mike nibbles his lips absentmindedly.

You can’t help a girlish giggle at his obvious interest.

 _He is_ **_really_ ** _handsome. But what a cocky bastard._

You finish off your drink in two large gulps. You definitely need another. 

"I'll be back," you tell him as you make your way to stand up.

"I'll be here," Mike calls back.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

You make your way to the kitchen to find Sarah joking around with a very warm-looking Rich. His laughter is the most boysterous and cheerful noise you’ve heard in a long while. He leans against the counter with a Diet Coke in his fur-covered gorilla hand.

“Are you the designated driver for tonight?” you ask.

“Nah,” Rich replies as he grips the cold can. “I just don’t drink.”

“Oh wow. That’s pretty cool,” you admit. “So you don’t get wasted and do stupid shit like the rest of us?” 

“I do the absolute _stupidest_ shit. I just do it sober,” Rich responds with a loud chuckle. “I can’t even blame booze!”

Sarah steps up and passes you a lime green liquid in a tall shot glass. She clinks her drink against yours in cheers and you both slam the shots before you think to ask what they were.

“God, Sarah! Was that _pure_ Midori? It’s like getting punched in the throat by a cantaloupe!” you cough. 

“You have to loosen up!” Sarah shouts as she does a little twirl in the small kitchen. Rich dances along; jiggling in his fur suit.

Lisa’ and Lauren's voices filter in from the living room: “Sarah! This one’s for you!” A flood of guitar music fills the kitchen. Avril Lavigne’s _Complicated_ blasts through the walls and your friend does a mad dash away singing at the top of her lungs, “Chill out! ... What you yellin’ for! … Lay back, it’s all been done before...”

Rich’s face contorts with disgust as Sarah turns the corner. He turns to you with a smile. “Kids these days,” he mutters as he shakes his head disapprovingly.

You reach into the fridge and quickly look for something else to drink. It's mostly full of beer you don't recognize. Eventually, you crack open a Mike’s Hard Lemonade and try to wash some of the Midori taste out of your mouth. Rich continues to sip on his Diet Coke and smiles at you warmly.

“So how do you fit in to all of this, Rich?” you ask.

“Hmmm…” he thinks. “I’m not sure if I fit in all that well. I don’t actually live around here; I’m just visiting. But I visit a lot. I grew up with Mike outside of Chicago, but he moved to Milwaukee to be closer to Jay.”

“Yeeeaah. Those two. Are they friends or do they hate each other?” you ask with your burgeoning liquid courage.

“BOTH actually!” Rich laughs and it’s contagious. “They’re just super competitive; over writing and filming and girls and literally everything else they can complete for.”

“Girls, huh?” you inquire with as much subtlety as you can.

“Yeah. Mike always wins that one. But Jay beats Mike at just about everything film-related. Soooo….” Rich makes a gesture like he’s weighing something in each hand. “...I guess that makes them even?” his voice kicks up several notches at the end of his sentence. He laughs before taking another sip of his diet soda.

“You don’t join in the fighting?”

“No fucking way!” Rich giggles. “One: I already have a girlfriend and two: I don’t give a shit about making movies.” He pauses for a moment. “Okay… that’s not true.. I like being in _their_ movies, but I don’t care about any of the technical stuff.”

“You act in their movies?”

“We all do,” Rich waves his hand toward the living room. “Mike and Jay mostly like to film me getting punched in the balls or getting shot or getting punched in the balls while being shot. If that’s acting, then I guess I’m a regular Tom Hanks.”

“A Tom Hanks that gets punched in the balls all the time,” you smile.

“All the fucking time,” Rich giggles. “I’m a national goddamn treasure.”

_Okay. I like this guy._

Sarah and Lisa’s impromptu karaoke seems to be getting louder if that’s even possible.

Jesse and Ryan pile into the small galley kitchen to escape the girls' audio assault in the living room. It’s quite a sausage fest. And a sweaty sausage fest at that.

You definitely need some air.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

You duck out the kitchen and walk into the hallway heading towards what you hope is the bathroom. The drinks have been a bit strong and you want to splash some water on your face. You open the first door on your left to see Jay seated on the foot of a bed; his elbows on his knees as holds his head in his hands. He looks up at you, slightly startled.

"Oh, god! I'm so sorry," you interject. "I was looking for the bathroom."

"It's on the right." Jay offers simply. He looks like the air has been taken out of his chest.

You look up across the room as you move to leave. Almost every square inch of the walls is covered with horror movie posters and cut-outs from Fangoria magazines. A bright red iMac sits on the desk framed by several spools of blank DVD-Roms. Hundreds of movies line every inch across four mismatched bookshelves on the far wall.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many movies in one place besides Blockbuster. Are they all yours?” you ask, very impressed.

“Oh! Yeah,” Jay starts as he jumps off of his bed. His hands and arms don’t seem to know what to do with themselves. “Yeah.” He sets his hands on his hips for a moment, then behind his back, then in his pockets. “Um…” He finally just folds one across his chest and runs his thumb and index finger over an imaginary beard on his face.

"I like movies,” he finally responds. 

You can’t help but smile at the cute film nerd. His green and red sweater is two sizes too big for him. His shaggy blonde hair is sticking out in several directions, making him seem years younger. He’s absolutely adorable.

“Yeah,” you reply with your kindest smirk. You motion to all of the walls with your finger. “I kinda guessed.”

A shy smile breaks across Jay’s face before he covers his mouth. 

“I wish you didn’t hide your smile so much. I think your teeth are really cute.”

Jay’s cheeks flash bright pink before he tucks his face into his chest.

“Are you coming back to the party?” you ask.

"I will eventually," he claims. "I just don't like to be around a lot of people." Jay pulls his hands into the long sleeves of his Freddy Krueger sweater.

You look at him with understanding.

"I’m like that sometimes, too."

Jay finally glances up to your face with what looks like hope.

That hope vanishes a second later as Mike's loud voice reverberates through the apartment.

"No! I draw the **fucking** line at _Holla Back Girl!_ I'm gonna break the fucking CD! I can't listen to this shit anymore! Which one of you fuckers wants shots?!"

You're torn between hiding from the crowd with Jay, or drowning your nervousness with Mike.

What do you do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Choose wisely!  
>   
> 


	2. Stay With Jay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You decide to escape the crowd and try to connect with the cute blonde.

You walk slowly into the room, closing the door behind you.

"Sorry. They're great, but I just don't want to be around so many people right now," you explain. You lean against the wall and try to clear your buzzing head.

"You can stay in here if you want," Jay offers. "It's my room, so no one ever comes in here."

"I find _that_ very hard to believe," you tease.

"I mean that… I mean, no one else ever hangs out in my room."

Jay clearly has never been properly flirted with.

_That is a fucking shame._

The thought imbues you with confidence.

"Could I sit down?" you ask as unobtrusively as possible.

Jay is dumbfounded for a moment.

"Oh.. Um.." Jay looks over his cluttered bed. "Yeah. Sure…" Jay leaps up to clear the stacks of VHS's and notebooks off of his mattress. They all clatter to the ground in messy heaps. He moves to his dresser turn down the ska punk music playing on his stereo.

_I wonder what you think_  
_As we lay here in bed_  
_I don't know what I'm thinking,_  
_But that's better for my head_

“Sorry if the Goldfinger is too loud. Mike’s using my headphones for editing now,” Jay reports.

_When I wake up tomorrow_  
_Will you still feel the same?_

“I actually like it,” you assure him.

You take a seat on the edge of the bed and do your best to keep the hem of your school girl skirt from riding all the way up your leg. You look up to see Jay quickly darting his eyes away from your mostly unbuttoned white shirt.

You attempt to put him at ease: "I don't usually dress like I'm in an Aerosmith video," you try to explain. Jay grins slightly, but still seems nervous. "I hear you make movies.”

“Yup,” Jay says before he bites solidly into his bottom lip.

You wait expectantly for more, but Jay just looks around the room, rocking back and forth on his heels and avoiding eye contact.

You see a jug of liquid latex sitting in the corner. A long coil of electrical wire hangs over the mouth of a 3-liter bottle of what you hope is fake blood. The contents are dripping down the sides of the bottle onto a white t-shirt riddled with bullet holes and some plastic sheeting. “Oh wow!” You point to the messy pile. “Do you do your own special effects?”

“Um.. yeah,” Jay confides. He looks at you sheepishly before heading to the corner. He picks up the bottle of blood carefully. “I’m actually trying to perfect my blood recipe right now. The store-bought stuff is terrible on film.”

“Woah! You shoot on _film_?” you ask as you get up and walk towards him.

“I _have_ shot on film, but just in school. I’m just using a camcorder right now,” Jay explains. “I’m saving up for a professional-grade camera.” He swirls the blood bottle in his hands, and then points to the contents inside.

“This is my best recipe so far. It’s really hard to get the blood to be viscous enough without it making too brown,” he begins. “You want the blood to be bright so it stands out on screen, but you don’t want it too bright or you’ll wind up…”

“... With neon-red blood like in _Dawn of the Dead_?” you inject.

His eyes shoot open wide and he nearly drops the bottle.

“What?” you smile innocently. “Can girls not like zombie movies?”

Jay’s still stunned into silence. You give him a tiny eye roll.

“You know to make the bullet holes for the head shots,” you begin, “Tom Savinni just used a quarter…”

“... tied to a fishing line,” Jay finishes your thought as he comes back to his senses. You reach up to inspect Jay’s prized blood and place your hands over his on the top and bottom of the bottle. You tilt it slightly and watch as the red liquid oozes inside the plastic. Jay observes you carefully, staying totally still and holding his breath. 

“It looks perfect to me. Does it stay this color when it dries?” You keep your hands on his as you glance up into Jay’s wide-open eyes. His expression is a mix of terrified, impressed, and intrigued. Terrified seems to be winning, though.

You take your hands away from his and move to his DVD-covered work desk.

“I won’t bite you, Jay.”

“I know!” he yelps. “I mean, I realise… I know that you won’t bite me,” Jay answers with a tinge of embarrassment. He packs his blood bottle away in the corner.

“Unless you want me to,” you add over your shoulder with a wink. 

_Man, that was a_ **_boozy_ ** _cocktail._

Jay walks into his dresser on his way over but tries to make it look like he meant to.

“So what kind of movies do you make, Jay?”

“Umm... It’s mostly just stupid stuff that I think is funny.” Jay scrambles to get between you and his desk, but you set your hard lemonade down and grab three of the DVD cases before he gets there.

You look down to find a movie titled _DISCONNECTED_. There’s a picture of Jay and Ryan (without the bunny suit) printed on the cover.

You read the description aloud as Jay makes an awkward face.

“‘Dead animals, life-threatening diseases, crack dealers, and other hilarities.’ Huh.”

You cycle to the next DVD. Jay starts to protest, but you read the title out loud anyway: “‘ _The Trouble with Her Uterus:_ _A Jay Bauman film_.’ Interesting.” You give an exaggerated nod and try to keep from laughing.

“And what’s the last one here?” You shuffle to the last DVD and see a fully illustrated movie cover. A caricature of Jay with an eyepatch stares back at you. You recognize at least half of the guests from the party as they appear in cartoon form around the animated Jay. You stifle a giggle at the title in huge blue letters: “‘ _PERVERT Goes Home_.’ I assume you are the pervert? Very nice.”

Both of Jay’s hands slap to his forehead and start a slow pull downwards. He stares up at the ceiling and groans, clearly wishing for a quick death.

“What’s Blanc Screen Cinema?” you chime.

“Uuuugggghhhhh," he groans. "It’s my film group,” Jay explains as he drags his hands down to his jaw.

"Is everyone here part of it?" You start to read the back of the DVDs to yourself.

Jay's hands finally slide off of his face, but he keeps his eyes on the ceiling. "Yeah. Just about."

"That's so... **fucking…** cool!" you shout. Jays head whips down to you.

"Re... REALLY?!" he asks incredulously.

"Yes, really! That's amazing! Doing something so creative and that you're so passionate about is one thing, but then doing it with your friends… that's… that’s..."

"It's really fucking great," Jay explains with a smile so wide it flips your insides. He stands up taller and runs his hand through his hair. "Sometimes I write, but Lisa is really great at that, too. Jesse's hilarious and Lauren is an amazing director. Rich will do anything you tell him to. And Mike drives me fucking nuts, but he's got this ability to come up with amazing experimental films."

Jay rolls up the sleeves of his huge sweater and starts to rifle through his home-made DVDs. An unseen weight falls from his shoulders. Jay stands up straight and looks confidently into your eyes as he shows you ten of his movies in quick succession. You pull off your itchy black wig and leave it on Jay’s bed.

"This one was great because I finally had enough equipment to do a night shoot properly.” Jay's expression beams when finds the next DVD.

"This one has this awesome song that my friend Jack wrote. I don’t know shit about music, but he and this guy Josh are great at it.” You nod at him encouragingly as you pull out several pins from you hair and he moves along to the next movie.

"I like your hair like that a lot,” he says without thinking. “Oh! This one ends with Ryan shooting me in the head. I think we used an air compressor to get that shot."

"To get your brain matter to spray out?" you guess.

"Exactly. Right. Oh wait!” Jay’s face scrunches up adorably as he tries to remember the scene. “I actually wound up just using the version where we used the spray bottle," he corrects himself.

"Sometimes the simplest solution is the most effective," you assure him.

"Wow," Jay says appreciatively. "Fucking exactly!" He scratches his sharp nose with one of his sleeves before continuing on to another DVD.

"This one is kind of a love story, but between grown men and baby."

You shoot him a look of disgust.

Jay quickly explains: "No! It's okay - _Rich_ is the baby."

You hit the end of your drink and set the empty bottle on the floor. You’re feeling incredibly confident for some reason.

"What's a girl gotta do to get in your movies?" you flirt as you lean against the desk. 

"I work with girls all the time," Jay says with a confused grin; barely talking his eyes off of his hand full of DVDs.

_Oh you sweet, sweet boy._

You arch your back slightly, forcing the buttons of your white shirt to work over-time.

"Do you ever get to kiss girls in your movies?"

Jay’s hands grip his movies tighter. He looks _very_ guilty.

"I… uh… a few. Well, yes. I have. But only like twice," he explains. You wet your lips before continuing on:

"Did you ever write a scene like that **_just_** to get to kiss a girl?"

His cheeks are blushing into a lovely shade of red. Jay sets the movies down and pulls his hands back into his long sleeves.

"You don't have to answer that if you don't want to," you assure him. You move closer to Jay and he backs away into the dresser. You reach down to pull his sweater sleeve up and gently thread your fingers through his. Jay's hand is balmy and trembling, but he doesn't pull away from you.

"Can I ask you a different question?" you propose delicately.

Jay nods several times in quick succession, his eyes focused on your lips. You give him a playful smile before nibbling your bottom lip for his benefit.

"Would you kiss me now, even if we're not in a movie?" You squeeze his shaking hand assuringly. 

Jay's voice is barely above a whisper when he replies.

"I… I think... I think would like that very much, yes."

His two front teeth threaten to pierce his bottom lip as he considers his next step.

You move in closer, watching his eyes all the while. Your body presses firmly against him; your lips two inches away from his.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you think too much?” you smile.

“Just everyone every day,” Jay murmurs. His eyes dart from your eyes to your lips and back again, but he’s standing perfectly still. Another ten seconds goes by, Jay completely motionless, before your heart finally sinks. You move away from Jay’s face and start to untangle your fingers. 

“I’m so sorry Jay,” you apologize. “I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward. I just think you’re really cute and funny and I overstepped. I can leave,” you offer.

The fingers of Jay’s left hand grasp yours before you can pull away. He hesitates for just a moment before he soothes his right hand across your cheek; resting his fingers gently on the side of your neck. His calloused thumb runs along your bottom lip, parting your mouth open as he gazes ardently into your eyes. Jay gives you an almost imperceptible shrug before he takes a deep breath.

“I **_always_ **feel awkward,” he whispers before pulling your mouth to his.

Jay’s lips are surprisingly soft and supple against yours. You feel his breath warm your skin as his lips claim you. You run your tongue across his pink mouth; inviting him to deepen the kiss. He nips hungrily at your bottom lip before his left arm wraps around your lower back, drawing you tight against his lean frame. 

His tongue explores your mouth slowly, drawing out a heat from deep inside and making your cheeks burn. You reach up to his face, delicately cupping his sharp jawline.

Jay’s patchy mustache stubble tickles your nose. He tastes like cheap bourbon and BooBerry cereal. The strange combination makes you smile as you kiss him back.

Your arm wraps around his shoulders as you drag your nails along his scalp. Your brain goes blank when you hear him groan under your fingertips. His hands dig into your hips possessively and your mind goes fuzzy. You whimper into his mouth, pleading for more.

You pop away from his mouth in a blur.

“Holy shit!” you blurt. You take a step back to get a breath; eyes open wide.

Jay stands frozen, arms up in surrender, next to his dresser.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks with concern.

“Fuck no!” you assure him. Your heart threatens to burst out of your rib cage. You move back to him fast, grabbing his right hand and placing his palm on top of your heaving chest. His hand feels warm and solid under yours. You look up at him and hope he can feel it, too.

Jay chuckles with relief and smiles widely. Wordlessly, he reaches down to your hand and places it against the front of his tattered sweater. Even through the thick layers of fabric, you feel the solid, _rapid_ rhythm of his heart beat.

“Maybe we should slow down a bit?” he offers. He traces the side of your jaw with his thumb; no trace of trembling to be found.

“Ugghh,” you try to clear your head. “That would probably be good, yes.” You bite your lip with a tinge of regret, still enamored with the feeling of Jay’s strong heartbeat under your palm.

“Well, let’s get some air. I’ll show you the balcony. I’d love to keep talking to you if that’s okay,” he offers.

“I would love that, Jay.”

You separate yourself from him and make your way to the door. Jay leads you out of the room as you check your stupid skirt. He follows you closely as you make your way down the hallway towards the living room.

Mike steps out of the kitchen with a cold White Russian in each hand. He stops dead in his tracks, eyes wide with shock as he looks to Jay, then you, and then back to Jay.

You look down to make sure your shirt hasn’t come unbuttoned before you spin back to check Jay.

_Oooooohhhhh.._

“What?” Jay asks; totally confused. His cheeks are still flushed pink and his hair is poking up in five new directions.

Deep purple lipstick is smeared across his swollen lips.

Mike finally sputters into hearty laughter. “Well shit. I guess I can’t win all the time,” he tells Jay. 

Mike hands you one of the glasses before extending the other out to his blonde friend. Jay finally takes the drink and tips it in thanks. Mike gives you one more look before addressing his friend again.

“Merry Christmas, you lucky bastard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Goldfinger song that's playing in Jay's room is [Here in Your Bedroom](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OJITRDBEbp4).  
>   
> All of the movies listed are real Jay Bauman films.  
>   
>   
> Here's that oversized red and green sweater:  
>   
> And here's Jay after filming Ryan shoot him in the head.  
>   
> 


	3. Party with Mike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You decide a tall drink and a tall brunette will be the best thing to get you through the night.

“I’m going to head back,” you tell Jay. “I think I’m going to need a few more drinks to deal with this many strangers." You shoot him a parting smile on your way out. “I hope you feel better.”

Jay gives you a small wave and moves over to his work desk.

“There you are!” comes Lisa’s voice from the hallway. You take a deep pull from your hard lemonade as she skips towards you.

_Gonna need something a whole lot harder than this lemonade._

Lisa grabs your hand and pulls you into the dining room off the kitchen. Mike has poured a round of tequila for everyone at the party and arranged them in an anarchy symbol on the table. Sarah takes a step to her left and Lisa stands you right next to Mike.

“All-rought, yew fuckas! Let’s get bloody pissed’!” Mike curls his lip and yells in a pretty terrible cockney accent. He hands you a UWM shot glass and you drink it instantly.

He gives you an impressed nod when you don’t instantly choke on the dirt-cheap tequila. Everyone takes their shot with varying degrees of success and slams their glasses back on the table. Rich drinks along with his Diet Coke.

“I’m chuffed to bits wif tha lot of ya!” Mike yells to his friends.

You lean into him with a confused expression. “Is… is that a good or bad thing, Mike?” He immediately drops the accent and answers back to you kindly - “No, that’s good.”

You watch as Jesse, Ryan, Lauren and Sarah try to shake off the taste of tequila and head back out the living room leaving you with Lisa, Rich, and Mike. Mike offers you an Old Milwaukee, but you show him your half-full bottle of hard lemonade. 

He pries off the lid of his fresh beer offers your a cheers.

"Bottom's up?" Mike starts.

"If you're lucky," you tease.

A positively devious grin flashes across his face. He rests his tall frame against the counter top and smiles to himself. Lisa gives him a weary look. “Try not to do anything stupid,” Lisa warns him on her way out of the kitchen.

“I ‘aven’t the devil’s idea whut you’re on about!” Mike answers with a snarky face. He reverts back to a charming smile in the blink of an eye and turns back to you.

_Yep. This one is **definitely** trouble. _

Rich stays in place against the refrigerator; sipping happily on his Diet Coke. He looks at you, then to Mike. Sweat drips down his thin hair and into the gorilla suit as another wordless moment goes by.

The silence is awkward and increasingly hilarious. Rich takes another slurp and grins softly. Mike glares at him like he’s going to murder him at any moment. You can hear the wall clock ticking as you try to keep from giggling. Exactly five more seconds pass.

“GET THE **FUCK** OUT, RICH!” Mike screams. Rich wails like a wounded animal and throws his gorilla hands up to cover his head. He clamors awkwardly out of the kitchen, smiling from ear to ear.

“Jesus **FUCKING** Christ, man!” Mike yells after him.

“I REGRET NOTHING!” Rich exclaims from the other room.

“Sorry about my friend there. He’s an idiot,” Mike explains with an eyeroll before he takes a sip of his beer.

“Did you kidnap him from a pedophile carnival or something?” you ask.

Mike spits half of his drink across the kitchen. He tries to wipe his mouth off on the sleeve of his Ghostbusters uniform.

“Do you mean the carnival FOR pedophiles or the carnival RUN BY pedophiles?” he inquires between chuckles.

“The first one,” you tease.

“Oh! Yep. That’s the one! That’s right where I found him: Running the goldfish booth at a carnival for pedophiles.” 

“Was he happy there?” you giggle

“He was, yes. As most idiots are. But he kept eating all of the goddamn goldfish” Mike laughs brightly. “Fucking Rich!” he chuckles. “He’s fucking unemployable!”

You both break into raucous laughter and tears start to form at the corners of your eyes. Mikes eyes squint adorably as his laughter over takes him. You reach out to steady yourself on the kitchen counter and accidentally grab onto Mike’s forearm.

He’s surprisingly solid under that uniform. You can’t help but make an appreciative face. Your hand grips him tighter and you feel the muscles of his arm move under your grasp. Mike’s laughter dies down to nothing as he watches you.

He inhales deeply through his sharp nose before his smile turns quite cheeky. Just then, Lauren and Sarah start belting out the words to Weezer’s _Island in the Sun_ and Mike looks utterly miserable.

“This album fucking sucks and I would rather kill everyone at this party and then myself than listen to this fucking song!”

“So is this the _Murder-Suicide_ album?” you kid.

“It’s _The Green Album_ and it’s a fucking abomination,” Mike informs you with false seriousness. A small smile breaks through his facade and makes your heart melt a little. 

"Are you just being an asshole right now?" 

"Nope," replies sternly. "It's a fact: This is the worst album ever made in the history of music. And that's a _fact_." 

"I actually like it," you challenge. "Maybe not as much as the _Blue Album_ or _Pinkerton,_ but it's still good." 

Mike blinks twice before he gives you another approving look. 

"Yeah, it is pretty great," he giggles.

You smack him playfully on the chest. 

"Do you just enjoy being difficult, Mike?" 

Mike purses his lips in consideration for a moment before a huge, self-satisfied grin overtakes him. 

"Yes. Yes I do," Mike admits with a wink. 

“How would you like to accompany me on to the balcony?” Mike inquires as he bows slightly at the waist. He offers you his right hand and you hesitate _just_ long enough to make him nervous.

"Are you going to keep being a difficult?" you ask with sarcasm. 

"Always." 

Mike walks you through the dining area of the apartment and out the sliding glass door. There’s a patio heater just a little taller than Mike sitting in the center of the balcony. A glorious warmth emanates from high up on the heater, making the Wisconsin winter feel like a summer evening. 

Huge white snowflakes drift down from the sky and clump together near the white Christmas lights along the balcony's ledge. The party inside is muffled as Mike shuts the screen and sliding doors behind you both.

“Are you having a good time so far?” Mike poses. His voice seems deeper now. And softer, somehow. You turn to see him watching you closely. The golden white lights cast him in a warm glow and make his eyes dark eyes sparkle. He looks like a Ghost-busting angel. 

“Mmm hmmm,” is all comes to your very preoccupied mind. You nod your head like a moron and hope to God he didn’t notice.

Mike leans against the opposite wall of the balcony and watches the snow fall.

“Hey Mike?”

“ _Mmm hmmm_?” he repeats your answer back to you with a knowing smirk. You stick your tongue out at him and he chuckles.

“Tell me about your movies.”

Mike purses his lips in thought. His head cocks to the side, giving you a lovely view of his jawline.

“Why do you want to know?” he asks with mild suspicion.

“I love hearing about an artist’s creative process,” you tell him honestly. Mike raises his eyebrow just slightly.

“Okay, then…" you try another approach. "I guess I just like learning how the sausage is made. Does that sound less ‘film school’ to you?”

“Yeah. I like that better. Plus, it’s sausage. I mean, who doesn’t love fucking sausage?” Mike laughs.

“Actually, I hear Rich only eats goldfish,” you call back.

“Oh Shit! You’re right! Fucking Rich jacking off in the goldfish booth,” he elaborates.

You try to keep the joke going through your snickering: “Damn! He was jacking off in there? I thought that he was just eating all the fishies?”

“That’s just what he **wanted** you to think!” Mike yells. He turns around to tap on the glass door and get Rich’s attention. "What about those poor fishies, you sick fuck?!" When Rich finally looks back, they flip each other off and grin like idiots. Mike steps back to his place against the wall and hides his giggling face behind his sleeve.

“You have a great smile, Mike. I wish you wouldn’t hide it as much," you tell him.

He bites into this lower lip and tucks his face into his chest, but doesn't look back to you.

_Is that **actual** bashfulness? _

“Would you tell me about your movies?” you inquire again. 

“Sure. Yeah,” Mike clears his throat. “I’ve loved movies my whole life. Like everything. I’m a big sci-fi guy… obviously…” he points down to his Ghostbusters uniform. “But I think every genre of film can offer something.”

“Really?” you ask a bit surprised. Mike takes another drink of his beer and nods in the affirmative. “So you authentically enjoy period dramas?”

“I cried ugly tears at the end of _Babette’s Feast,”_ Mike answers with a smirk.

“Even movies that feature talking animals?”

“I got the VHS of _Babe_ already queued up and ready to go at my house.”

“That might be the most attractive thing you could have possibly ever told me about yourself,” you tease.

“Oh, _that’s_ it? Cause I’ve been trying everything to get your attention. I’m glad my second favorite James Cromwell movie finally did the trick,” Mike jokes.

"You're really funny, Mike."

Mike shrugs as he finishes off his beer. Your next words are forced to the surface by that damn tequila.

"And **_really_** fucking sexy."

The sound of Mike's choking bounces off the walls; beer dribbles down to his chin.

He coughs and sputters as he tries to clear his airway. You smirk at him and take another drink of your lemonade as he coughs. 

"You okay over there, Mikey?" 

“I’m… *cough* usually... the *cough* **_instigator_** in these *cough* situations," Mike manages to get out.

“That’s weird… cause you seem kind of terrible at it," you tease as you move closer.

"Damn it! *cough* I am… normally.. *cough* I.. you.. *cough* caught me off guard." 

"So you actually **are** interested in me?" You take another step to him.

Mike's coughing is finally (mostly) under control.

"Yeah. Of course. *cough* I've been flirting with you since you got here. *cough* I thought that I was obvious," he answers a little confused.

"You've also been flirting with _Rich_ since I got here," you point out. "I think you just flirt with everyone." His eyes go wide as you move closer.

Your feet step between his on the wooden floor of the balcony. You run your right hand up the front of his zipper from his belly button to the nape of his neck before moving to trace the red letters on his name tag with your index finger. His chest stills as he holds his breath. 

You look up through your eyelashes to see him staring openly down the front of your shirt. 

"How do I know you're not all talk, Mike?"

His lips are on your in an instant - the force of his kiss nearly knocks you over. Mike's strong arms envelop you completely, holding you tight against his body. Your tongues wrestle for dominance as your nails scratch down the front of his costume.

His teeth clatter against yours twice before you agree on a rhythm. He tastes like low-end tequila and awful beer and it's strangely sexy as hell.

Mike's left hand moves to the back of your head, holding your face up to exactly where he wants you. You bite into his bottom lip and feel his body shudder around you.

His right grabs a handful of your ass and wrenches you against his very warm lower half. Your legs nearly give out, but his grip never falters; keeping you impossibly close.

You claw at the front of his costume, trying desperately to get it off of him. You pant feverishly into his mouth as your body melts into his.

You jump away in a flash.

"Shit! Wow! I…" You reach up to feel your tingling lips. "That was fucking intense."

You try to catch your breath. "Holy fuck... I think we should maybe cool off for a second... maybe. I hope that's okay."

Mike can only set his hands on his hips and bobble his head in agreement. His cheeks are red and deep purple lipstick is smeared across his mouth.

"Should we go back inside?" you offer. You slide the glass door open, but the screen door is still closed. The guys in the living room are laughing loudly as Jesse and Ryan drunkenly skank to Reel Big Fish's cover of _Take on Me_.

"Uh… Yeeeeah… You can go in," Mike responds awkwardly. He turns his back to the door and leans forward to rest his hands on the snow-covered balcony ledge. "I just gotta stay out here for a minute or two."

Mike sees your nervous, concerned expression and sighs loudly before motioning to his pants.

Both hands shoot up cover your gaping mouth.

"Oh god, Mike! I'm so sorry!"

"Its an erection, not AIDs," he laughs. "You don't have to be sorry about it. I just need a minute."

"Can I distract you for a while?" You offer. Despite the strange situation, Mike still manages a devastatingly handsome smile and gives his approval.

"Uh... movies... umm.." you stall. "Oh! What about Westerns? Do you like those?" 

"I guess… Well, yeah," Mike chuckles. " _Shane_ is a really great movie. I used to watch it all the time when I visited my grandparents." 

"What about Horror?”

“I love horror-comedies best. Like _Gremlins,_ which is a perfect movie." Mike takes a second to breathe deeply and try to focus on your question. "Oh! And of course _Tremors_ \- also perfect. But, horror is more of Jay’s thing.”

“Yeah, I accidentally walked into his room earlier,” you confess. “ _Definitely_ into horror.”

“Ha! You walked in on him?” Mike laughs. “What was that weirdo doing?”

“He just looked kinda sad.”

Mike’s smile fades.

“Ah, shit. Still?” Mike asks.

You turn to see Jay about to open the screen door and you hold a hand up to stop him there. You keep your eyes locked to Jay's as you ask Mike another question.

“What happened with you and Jay?"

“We got into a stupid fight about something and I think I might have been an asshole,” Mike admits.

Jay looks stunned.

You pivot to address Mike. "YOU!?!?” You tease. "YOU can be an insensitive asshole!? I don't know if I buy it."

Mike runs a hand down his face; his cold, snow-covered fingernails scraping across his five o'clock shadow.

"He was pitching this idea for a new movie we're working on and I shot it down."

You glance back to Jay and see sadness in his eyes. 

"Was it a bad idea?" you ask.

"No. It was a fucking **great** idea," Mike admits. He shakes his head in frustration and Jay's expression turns unrecognizable. "Every _fucking_ idea that guy has is great. I can come up with stupid shit to make Rich do, sure. I've been doing that since we were kids. But Jay understands film and shot composition and character writing like I don't think I ever will."

You step closer to Mike and lay a hand on his shoulder. "I think you should give yourself more credit. I'd love to watch your movies. Especially if you have any with Rich getting punched in the balls."

Mike shakes off his sadness and stands up tall. He takes your hand in his and presses his lips to your knuckles. "Oh, you sweet, beautiful girl. You have no idea what kind of a treat you're in for," he smiles.

You glance over to the doorway and Jay is gone. 

"Let's go inside," you suggest as you pull Mike towards the apartment. He reaches down to check his pants just to make sure he's in the clear. 

As you make your way inside and walk into the dining room, you come face to face with a much happier-looking Jay Bauman. He holds an icy White Russian in each hand and offers you the one in his right.

Jay glances up to Mike - his cheeks still red and his mouth stained with dark purple lipstick - then back to you. Jay holds out the other drink to Mike who accepts it without a word. Jay cracks a crooked grin before looking to Mike and patting him on the arm. 

“Merry Christmas, you lucky bastard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this little experiment. If you couldn’t choose between Mike and Jay and read both endings, I totally understand. 
> 
> This is my first attempt at writing Mike. I hope I was able to do him justice for you!
> 
> Please drop me a line here or on my [tumblr](https://redlettermistress.tumblr.com/).  
> I have bunch of old photos and videos of Mike and Jay there.  
>   
> Here's Jesse and Mike:  
>   
>   
>   
> And as an added bonus, here's Lisa, Rich, Jay and Mike circa 2002:  
>   
> 


End file.
